Stop this nightmare
by JLluv
Summary: Jane's worst nightmare comes to reality, and he knows he has only one chance to end it. But can he do it before it's too late?. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all here.**

**A/N: Hi, first story here. I've never written anything before, but I had this story in my head for a long time and I needed to either write it or stop watching the series. And as it's not going to happen, I decided I'd rather sit on the computer and open my wordpad.**

**Please be easy on me, at least on the case aspects, I wish I had the series writer's talent but I know my limitations. And English is not my first language so please forgive my grammar, should you find a mistake.**

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As Jane went down the steps to the basement and he started hearing faint human noises, panic raised through his veins up to his throat. Somehow he lost the ability to breath for a second, as he recalled the moment his worst recurring nightmare had become a reality.

* * *

_15 hours earlier_

Jane came bursting into Hightower's office. He didn't look his cheering usual self, but Hightower didn't raise her head from the documents she was working on.

"Something happened to Lisbon".

"I'm sure Agent Lisbon is just a bit late, Patrick".

"She doesn't answer the phone. She always does, but this morning, she doesn't".

Hightower still didn't answer.

"Madeleine. Madeleine look at me". His voice was rising and Hightower finally met his eyes. The look on his face had a hint of... was that panic? Hightower was usually a calm person, but she knew better than to dismiss Jane's concern. His instincts were normally right, and she could see he was genuinely worried about Lisbon.

"OK, I'll tell Rigsby to go and check at her address".

"The team is in San Francisco, working on that case... the money laundering one. It will take them a full one and a half hours to get back here. I've already called them but it's going to be a while. I'm going to Lisbon's".

"And the guys haven't heard of her yet today?", Hightower was starting to get anxious too.

"No, nothing". Jane was a short step from shaking.

"OK, we're both going to her place, let me get the address-".

"I know where she lives, let's go".

Hightower started rolling some calls, sat in the passenger seat of Jane's Citroen, while he drove through the streets of Sacramento. The speed was quite over the top, but Hightower didn't say anything. She looked from time to time to his face, which was contorted in a mixture of anxiousness, worry... and probably something else. But she didn't say anything.

She didn't say anything when she saw his fingers were turning white, as he held the steering wheel with such force he was stopping the blood circulation of his hands.

She didn't try to stop him when he picked the lock of Lisbon's house. She didn't say anything when he busted inside and made the way up the stairs, deciding on raiding the lower floor herself.

He was just half way up when he saw the paper taped to her door and he stumbled forward, suddenly wrapped by genuine panic. He tried to collect himself as he got to the door and read the note.

_Dear Mr Jane,_

_You still think you can fool me by pulling away from everyone, but I'm no fool. I have been watching you, and I've see past your facade. I've seen past hers, too._

_If you open this door, you won't find the scene you expect. You would probably like this to be over quick and easy, but I am more inclined to the slow and painful with your lovely friend._

_I would love to share the fun, but you know it is not possible. Nevertheless, I will make sure the coroner can give you a full report when you recover her body._

Lisbon's cross pendant was hung on the doorknob. Jane took it, and kept it in his right hand while he looked again at the piece of paper stuck to the door. And suddenly, everything turned black.

* * *

It was a full two hours later when he started being aware of the situation around him.

He was sat in Lisbon's living room, surrounded by the noise of the forensics looking for any evidence. He felt his neck was wet, but the room was cold, and he wondered if he was running a fever. It was when a crying Van Pelt placed her thumbs under his eyes and lightly rubbed the skin there, that he realised the wetness drenching his collar came from the tears running freely down his face.

"Jane, please, we need you. Lisbon needs you. If anyone can help find her, it's you". Van Pelt's voice was barely a whisper, shaking under her own tears.

"What happened to me?" his own voice sounded foreign to him.

"You... you collapsed. Hightower demanded every CBI agent into the house, plus the FBI, and we've been doing everything we can. The paramedics helped you meanwhile and they gave you a sedative... Hightower... well Hightower says you went a bit crazy before collapsing, and she didn't want any risks".

"No doubt I can barely move my face".

"But the effect will be gone shortly, Jane! And we need you cold-headed! I... I know you care a lot about Lisbon, but Red John said he's not killing her immediately! She has a chance!".

Grace had put her hands around Jane's clenched fists and was looking at him directly in the eyes. There were still tears in hers, but there was also a determination, a look that said _this is not over yet_. Jane looked away to see Cho and Rigsby, who had been sharing their finds with Hightower, all looking at him intently.

He needed to move now.

"All right, let's go". Van Pelt smiled widely at him and went back to work.

Jane was just about to put his hands on Lisbon's couch and help his still slightly stiff body get up, when he realised he still had them tightly closed. He felt something in the right one and opened it. Lisbon's cross was there, having already imprinted its shape on his palm. No one had notice he was holding it, not even the paramedics. It might be evidence, he knew it, and he knew he should probably hand it in.

He should, but he never followed the rules.

He should, but he knew there were no fingerprints beside Lisbon's and his. Red John was careful.

He should, but it was the pendant that had been left there, not Lisbon's body. And that gave hum the slightlest feeling of hope. And that should be enough.

He kept the cross in his vest's pocket instead.

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**A/N: The story is almost completely written and I know where I want it to go, so you'll have an update soon. I just want to know if it's worth continuing it or not. It should probably be around three or four chapters :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**A/N: Well, I can only say a big THANK YOU for all the reviews and the story alerts I've received! I'm trying to answer all the reviews and I can't express how much it means to me. I don't usually have much time to write or read, but I'm on holiday and I thought I could get this one out of my system by writing it. Anyway I promise I'll also try to catch up on some stories, and of course review them, because I can see some very talented writers around :)**

**So, back to the story. I have to say I had to type this last night because, as I said, the story was close to be completed, but I realised there was something missing. You'll understand later.**

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Teresa Lisbon couldn't hold herself up anymore. Her legs had already given way, and her eyes were threatening to close. She just wanted to give in, to surrender to the pain. Dying couldn't be as bad as what she was feeling now. She wanted it all to end. And still she fought to stay awake. She was a fighter, damn, and she would die fighting.

But her body couldn't take anymore. And oh how she longed to close her eyes and stop it...

* * *

_18 hours earlier_

A loud sound brought Lisbon back to reality from the land of dreams. She raised her torso from the bed, but remained seated on the mattress, trying to keep her eyes open and still confused by the abrupt awakening. She scanned the room through its darkness, and looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 6.45am, still fifteen minutes to sleep. She was still wondering what that sound might have been, but she thought it might be a product of her imagination. She thought of lying back and closing her eyes for a few minutes. However she was feeling awake now, and decided against going back to sleep.

She raised from the bed and made her way to the bathroom, adjusting the oversized jersey she was using as a nightgown. She switched on the light but she wouldn't have needed it. Her first half hour of the day usually ran in automatic mode. She used the toilet, tied a quick ponytail and brushed her teeth without being conscious of her acts. At least she saved her baths for the evenings, she usually needed them to relax after her long working days.

She also washed her face throughoutly and reached for a towel to dry it without giving herself a look in the mirror. It was only when she left the towel next to the basin and raised her face to look at her reflection, that she saw she wasn't alone.

She barely had time to turn around. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound didn't reach her lungs quickly enough. Her right hand went immediately to her hip looking for her gun, but she didn't have time to remember she was barely wearing any clothes, let alone a holster. The intruder was quicker than all that. He raised his hand and slapped her, with such force her left cheek crushed against the wall. And all she saw was black.

* * *

She woke up what felt like hours later, curled up in the corner of a dimly lit and cold room, her hands cuffed. The first thing she noticed, besides the steel surrounding he wrists, was that she felt the soles of her naked feet sore, and she realised she had probably been dragged on the rough floor. She felt a throbbing pain on her left cheek and raised her hands to touch it. She didn't see any blood but she was sure there was a purple bruise. She tried to unstiffen her neck to look around, her eyes still adjusting to the low lightning. The farthest corners of the room were sunk in the darkness, but she could see most of it now.

She couldn't see any windows, it looked like a basement. It was dirty, not out of use. There were multiple cobwebs hanging around the joists over her head. That place had most likely been abandoned for years. This didn't look like a normal basement. It wasn't remotely "homey". There weren't bicycles there, nor cleaning products, or washing machines. It was almost empty, and she could have said it was in ruins, although it didn't actually looked to be on the point of collapse.

The only piece of furniture she could see was a chair, and it was empty. It made her remember she was there because someone - a man - had broken into her house and knocked her down in her own bathroom. But who was him?

"Glad to see you're back from the land of the dead, Teresa. I was starting to think I had ended the game soon enough".

She saw a figure approaching her from one of the corners she couldn't see. She tried to focus on his face. Dark-haired, tall, middle-aged, not very handsome. Hadn't she seen him before? He surely wasn't a friend or an ex-boyfriend, but it somehow felt familiar. She tried to recall some of those she had recently interrogated, suspects from older cases, but she was fairly sure she'd remember those. She always did.

Who was that man, then?

"Don't try to remember me, Teresa. I know what you're doing, and it's useless. You don't care about who I am. You should care about what's going to happen next".

"I... Where am I?". She should try to think of a better question next time.

"Do you really care, Teresa?", he looked like he was stiffling a laugh. "Do you really think you'll be able to send a message to your team, to that friend of yours? Oh yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? But no worries, dear. I left a message for him so that he knows were spending some time together. He's probably missing my signature too, but I'll leave it here when the right time comes. First things first. You're not anywhere near dead, are you?"

Signature... a note... a note to her friend... a signature after death.

A red smiley face started to shape in her mind, and she looked panicking at the man's face.

Oh no, she was in so much trouble now.

* * *

"Why? Why didn't you just kill me?" she felt the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Because I want _him _to suffer even more than he's ever suffered before. Because long ago, I made my personal quest to drive him crazy beyond impossible". He crouched so he was at her same eye-level and looked into her eyes.

She tried to avoid his gaze.

"You've already done that. Every time we find a bloody smiley he turns into someone else. He won't stop until he finds you and kill you".

"Oh, but he's not really crazy, is he? I thought he wouldn't be able to go on after I killed his wife and child. He was probably near enough, but that hospital and that doctor helped him. They probably didn't do much more than keep him alive. I saw the opportunity again when he started working for the CBI. He wanted to find me, and I wanted to torture him. The best scenario for both of us". Red John was smiling at that point. But Lisbon saw his expression turn darker. "But then, somehow, he found something to make him feel alive again. Something that made him get up every morning. And I didn't know what it was. I just knew the smileys were not enough now. He... he seemed to be... content".

Lisbon didn't say anything, but she had a feeling she knew what Red John meant, and it made her blush slightly, her heart skip a beat.

"I started watching him closely. But it wasn't until that fool of Hardy tried to kill you and got a bullet in the stomach instead, that I realised what it was that Jane had found".

Lisbon looked away.

"He found you, didn't he?".

"I... I don't know what you mean. We're just friends".

"Yes, but you're close friends. You're family. And you may not have acted on your feelings, but you know it's not only friends you'd want him to be. I've seen the longing in your face when you look at him sometimes, Teresa".

She was positively sobbing now. She wasn't going to deny the evidence but she would stall him as long as she could. She couldn't know what time it was, there were no clocks, no windows to see the light outside, but she knew the longer she was alive, the better. And talking was a way of keeping him busy.

"How? How did you see all that? I've hidden it from my own team, from my boss, from him. How could you watch me all those times?".

"Again, Teresa, you don't need to know that. Don't you see? I win, that's all it is".

"Then why didn't you just kill me at home? If you thought Jane would care about me, why didn't you kill me then?".

"Because killing you right there is quick, and he would have found your body and been crazy for a short while, and he would have probably been in hospital just like before but he would be released after a while".

"And you think that won't happen if you just delay my execution?". Teresa wasn't a fool, she knew there was something else.

"It will happen if I delay your execution by torture. Right now, he's somewhere, thinking about the note I've left for him, wondering how much I'm going to make you suffer before you die. And _that's_ already killing him. That's driving him _mad_".

Lisbon was terrified. She couldn't help but wonder, too, what he was going to do to her. And she couldn't possibly understand what made a man hate another so much to become such an evil soul.

"You know, I thought what I did to Kristina would shake him. But I didn't see - _how naive of me_ - he had never had a real interest in her. It was only you. Always you".

Teresa didn't look at him while he got up and went to the corner to pick up something. She just thought of Jane. _It was only you, always you_... she was sure Jane didn't really had any romantic feelings for her. She would have died for him just as he would kill for her, but every night she went home alone thinking about her consultant and the life together that would never be, while he went home alone thinking about his dead wife and daughter.

That was just the way things were.

A voice brought her back from her thoughts.

"And now Teresa, it's been too long and we really need to start. I'm a man of action and this is getting boring, isn't it?".

She looked at him coming back and saw the large hunting knife he was holding in his right hand. She tried to curl up further in the corner, her eyes wide in horror. But it was useless.

He sliced right below her ribs and a large gash started bleeding. A cry of horror and pain crept past her lungs.

But only Red John heard it.

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A/N: So yeah, the story was missing Lisbon's point of view. Thoughts? :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Nooooooo, I don't own anything at all (well, maybe my idea of Red John's identity, but hey! you can use it as you please, writers! :P)**

**Awesome. You are all awesome! You can't imagine how many hits and alerts this is getting. And the reviews! I love them, thanks every single one of you. You are all fantastic.**

**OK, I'm shutting and going on with this.**

* * *

The noises coming from inside the basement grew louder as Jane descended the stairs. He shouldn't be doing this alone. But he _had to_.

He turned his face and looked up the stairs. Only darkness. Turning back around, he looked down to the basement door, where there where sounds and light. It felt like someone was waiting for him.

He knew that was exactly the situation. _Someone _was waiting for him there.

Should he turn around and call for help, or go on descending?

* * *

_2.30 hours earlier._

"The note says he's been watching you. Both Lisbon and you. Probably all the team. We've found several hidden mics in Lisbon's house. What does that tell us?". Hightower asked to the team looking at Jane, but clearly expecting an answer from any of them. She rubbed her face in frustration. They had made some progress in Lisbon's house after finding those microphones hidden in several plug sockets, but they hadn't found any fingerprints or anything that could actually relate to the present attack. It was obviously connected, but how?

"He's someone with extensive technical knowledge. The sound was most likely transmited to a car or a surveillance van, there's no way the signal could go further than a few yards, so he probably used to park right next to the boss' lot and listen. He needed the knowledge and resources to create a full surveillance unit". Cho was explaining what the FBI techs had found out after working out how those mics in particular were designed.

"O'Laughlin set FBI units controlling all the roads that leave the state, any suspicious vehicle is stopped, he shouldn't be able to leave California with her", Van Pelt had been in contact with Craig every few minutes.

"He won't leave California... It's someone from the CBI". Jane was staring blankly into space.

"What?" the rest of the team looked incredulously to him.

"It's someone who knows our routines and can watch our every movement".

Rigsby was still in shock. "But he placed the mics in Lisb-!"

"He watched _us_". Jane didn't let him finish the sentence. "Not her. _Us_. I've been only twice to her flat, when she was accused of murder". He had been there briefly last Christmas Eve for dinner too, but they didn't really need to know that. He hadn't been there for more than a couple of hours, but Lisbon had convinced everyone else that she was going to her brother James's house in Chicago. Only him had seen she was lying and she asked him not to tell the team. He wasn't going to betray her now.

He went on explaining. "He knows our routine, we spend most time here at the HQ. He killed Rebecca in this very building, in a restricted area. Only people working here could have done it. He's been watching us _here. _He placed microphones in Lisbon's house to control every aspect of her life and be aware of her every movement, but he knew it was her, whom he had to kidnap, because she's my best friend _here_".

"Every person working here was today either in Lisbon's house looking for evidence, or here at the HQ working the case. Only those who are out of the state have been dispensed and that was after proving they were actually far enough from California. Do you mean Red John is amongst the people trying to help here?". Hightower was starting to look desperate.

"No... he was not working... How many people didn't come to work today?"

"I'm telling you Jane, even those on holiday were called back in-".

"I'm sure there must be someone who didn't check in today, Madeleine".

"There are three people who didn't show up". Everyone looked at Van Pelt who was checking at the registry from her computer. "Helen Gardner, 52, works in human resources, asked for a three-day leave, her daughter has had a baby and she's travelled to Texas to be with her".

"Not her, go on".

"Brian Holner, 25, he's attending a conference in San Diego on arson investigation procedures".

"Not him, and he's too young to be Red John. Dammit... who else?". Jane's voice was turning desperate, and he never sounded desperate. _He must be really scared_, they all thought. Van Pelt looked at him for a second and continued reading.

"Peter Miller, 44, night watchman. He ended his shift at 6am this morning. Rosenberg and Declan, the other watchmen in the same shift, came to the HQ after the call but were sent back home. Miller never turned up. His phone was off". Van Pelt's facial colour appeared to have abandoned her after reading this.

"Anything interesting on Miller's file?". That had raised everyone's attention.

"Well, as I said, 44, single, 5'9", he lives in the Riverview area. Clean record, obviously".

"Check out his academic record".

"No diplomas, nothing important really. But... he... oh my God". Van Pelt was positively shaking right now.

"What? what's up Grace?" Rigsby was right beside her looking at the screen, one hand over her shoulder.

"He's regularly attended CBI courses, everything related to surveillance techniques. Nothing big, but he's shown a special interest in the matter. In all the course application forms he claimed he thought they would help him progress in his career, but there's no record of him ever applying for a promotion".

"It's 11.10pm,. Has he shown up for the new night shift?"

"Mmm, let me check... No, only Declan and Rosenberg are in, they checked in at 9.48 and 9.53 respectively".

"Get us his address, now! Rigsby, Cho, get everyone ready, we're going to his house. He's probably holding Lisbon hostage! And call back O'Laughlin, we need every unit on this!". Hightower was showing new energy with the new finding.

"We're on it boss", they left to get ready.

"Boss, what shall I do?", Van Pelt asked her.

"You stay here, I need you to find anything else you can on Miller, and coordinate all the units. No one does anything without my knowledge, clear?"

"Yes Ma'am".

"And you, Jane, stay here. I don't want any more trouble".

"OK". Jane was staring at the board of notes and pictures taken at Lisbon's house, but he didn't show any kind of emotion. He seemed concentrated and anxious, but didn't make any move that indicated he might be iintending on breaking Hightower's orders and following them.

"OK? You're not going to fight to come? That's new!". She was quite shocked, it had looked like he was absolutely interested in finding Lisbon when they all were at her place, but he was strangely calm and steady now.

"Yeah, I won't be of any use there, will I?"

"Jane, what are you planning?". Hightower was too used to Jane's antics to leave him alone.

"Nothing, I promise", he finally looked back to her and held his palms up trying to express innocence.

Hightower wasn't convinced. She took him by the upper arm and took him outside the bullpen and to a corner near the elevator. She lowered her voice and looked into his eyes.

"Jane, it's Red John we're talking here. Red John _and Lisbon_. I'm no fool".

Jane looked at her defiantly. Hightower got closer to him and lowered her voice.

"I know we're talking about the person you hate most, and the one you love most. I know you'd do anything in your power to kill him and to save her, even give your own life for both causes. So don't think you're fooling me because you aren't".

Jane looked at her with a face that didn't give away anything. He took a few seconds to think, before he answered.

"I'd give my own life to save Lisbon's, and to have Red John dead. But somehow it seems too easy. He knew we'd find him. I believe this might be a kind of trap, and if I show up there, he might kill Lisbon and leave before I can set a foot in that house, and I wouldn't be able to do any of the two things I'm most willing to do. So yeah, I'm staying".

Hightower stared at him in silence. He stared back. Then she nodded and got into the elevator.

He looked at her while the doors closed, and he went back into the bullpen.

It was all too easy.

He needed Van Pelt's abilities.

* * *

Teresa was tired. The gash near her ribs had been bleeding steadily, but the wound didn't seem deep enough to make her die of blood loss. However it had been successful at weakening her.

She was still curled up in the corner. She had kept her hands trying to stop the bleeding and she had managed to make it slow although it would surely need stitches.

Then she remember she would never make it to a hospital alive.

"Water... please". She could feel the parched skin on her lips and, and her throat was completely dry. Her voice had come out in a rough whisper.

"You don't need water. I don't care if you dehydrate. It will be something else that Jane will hate to know about your stay here. Can you imagine his face when he hears the coroner explain?".

Lisbon hated him. Even more than the physical pain, she hated how he liked to mess up with Jane. Typical of her, to be thinking of someone else's ordeal rather than hers. Especially if that someone was the one she secretly adored.

But he had spent the whole day going up the basement and down. Every time he went up, she could hear the sound of a distant TV. He was probably checking on the news. She would have really tried to escape, had she had a minimal chance, but the gash was painful when moving and, after the first time he had visited the upper floor, he had found her slowly climbing up the stairs (she had thought he would be away longer), so he had tied one end of a rope to the chain between her cuffs, and the other to a pipe. That way she couldn't reach the door and try anything.

It didn't matter now. She was too tired.

She really didn't have any idea of how long she had been down there but it seemed like too many hours. She was starting to need the toilet, not really with an urgency, but considering she hadn't taken any liquids since the night before. and that she had emptied her bladder before being taken hostage, it really must have been too many hours already.

Red John approached her again and took a look at the wound. Lisbon took the chance to look closely at his face. He really looked familiar.

"Damn, are you covering the wound? It's supposed to bleed more woman!". He slapped her face and she hid it behind her locks. Compared to the pulsing pain below her ribs, that was nothing. She just wanted him to leave her alone.

"This isn't working. I need you to stop touching it... I need you to stop moving at all". He looked around trying to find something to hold her still. Finally he looked up to the ceiling.

"Ha. That's it. Get up Teresa". He untied the end of the rope that was attached to the pipe, and pulled to help her stand up. She was too weak.

"Dammit Teresa, get up now!", he forced her up pulling from her elbows instead. In one swift move he took the chair that was still in the middle of the room and helped her stand on the seat. Then he climbed behind her.

"One silly move, and I'll break your neck before you can even turn", he whispered into her ear. She wouldn't risk it. She couldn't really make it far in her state.

He threw the rope over one of the wooden joists on the ceiling and adjusted it to the height he wanted. He looked down to Lisbon's body and feet, and only when he was satisfied did he secure it with an expert knot. Then he placed both hands on Lisbon's hip and climbed down. She shivered at his touch. She hated anything from head to toe of him. And she was scared. She had her hands in front of her face, but she was now tied to the roof.

"Climb down".

She started descending but her foot didn't touch the floor. Red John moved the chair a bit so that her leg was directly under her. She stretched both feet and she managed to stand on her toes. But it meant she was completely stretched out now, and she could feel the scab that had started forming over some areas of the the wound breaking, the blood running faster now below her hips and along her leg.

"How does it feel? How many times has Jane promised to keep you safe? How does if feel now he's betraying you? He's not trying to find you fast enough, don't you think? How does it feel, Teresa?".

_This _was torture.

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**A/N: Gotta love Angsty Lisbon, don't you think so? Don't worry, I _might _make it up for her... or not :P Reviews might help me decide :)**

**By the way, this is definitely going to be longer than 4 chapters. I'll need at least 6 and most probably 7 as I am rewriting some parts.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm overwhelmed by the response to this. It's just my first fic and the hits increase and increase nonstop, and so many of you have placed alerts too! Thank you, I'll never be able to thank you enough :). And thank you all who've reviewed, you keep me going *blows lots of kisses into air*.  
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**Off to this now. I'm NOT 100% happy with this chapter, really, and I know it's slightly shorter, but it will have to do because I'm concentrated on the next chapters. Tell me what you think, please, either it's good or bad. I accept criticism ;)**

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He had to go on. He inhaled deeply and, as stealthily as he could, he took the last steps down. He could see now a bit of the room in front of him, but it was just a small area of vision, and at first sight it looked empty.

He had to go inside.

* * *

_2 hours earlier._

"Van Pelt, are you still digging in Peter Miller's background?" He asked as he entered the bullpen. Grace was typing at a crazy pace and did not rise her eyes from the screen.

"Yeah, I'm trying to get a look at his financials, but they look clean so far".

Jane sat in front of her and thought.

"In most Red John's cases, he has used a company to hide his actions: _Cut Iron Properties_, _RJ Solutions_... we need to find a connection between him and one company. Something that escapes the normal routine: a corporative credit card or something like that".

"He's careful, Jane. I don't believe he can...".

"Grace, we need something else. You've just said it, he's careful enough. Do you think he's going to keep Lisbon in his own house?".

Van Pelt looked at him with understanding eyes. He was right.

"Keep on looking. There's got to be something", he said. He stood up and leaned over the desk. "I trust you, Grace". And with that, he stormed off to the attic.

* * *

He looked into the night sky through the window, thinking of Lisbon.

Teresa. _His Teresa_.

He had always known this day would come. And his selfish self had decided to look the other way and follow his human instincts (as far as his guilt would let him). He had developed a close friendship with Lisbon against his own common sense. They had become too close to each other, and Red John was now punishing him for it. And what was even worse. He was punishing _her_.

A part of him had expected to find her dead inside her room that morning, the moment he saw the piece of paper taped to the door, but he should have known better. Kristina had been proof enough that the murderer was beyond evil. He should have guessed when Red John would try even worse when taking someone he truly cared for...

Someone he truly loved.

He loved Lisbon. He had known that before, but he had taken her for granted. He had taken for granted the way her smile curled slightly to the right side. The way her eyes glinted when she was overwhelmed but tried to disguise it. The way she used her locks to hide her face when she was blushing. He loved everything about her, but he had foolishly thought he would not have to worry about her being there indefinitely.

And now he was about to lose her. She was somewhere else, suffering who knows what kind of torture, maybe even dead already. And it was all his fault. He had to be selfish. They had to get close to each other and now she was suffering the consequences.

He wouldn't be able to go on after this. This was too much.

He turned around, and looked to the makeshift bed he held in the attic. A sudden thought crossed his mind and he crossed the short distance to the bed, turning it all around and creating a mess of pillows and sheets on the floor. But he was looking for something.

A wooden box. Something he had kept there, not expecting to need it anytime soon.

He opened it and took the gun out. He held it up to his eyes to look closely at it. The moonlight shone over the metal.

It was his chance. The moment he had been waiting for. The moment of revenge. It should have been so simple. If it had been as it should, he would have gone there and cut Red John open, or shot him, or done anything to just kill him. And he would have gone fearless, because it would have been just Red John and him. No one else to suffer consequences but him.

But now, looking at the gun he was holding, he wondered what would be waiting for him if he was able to find Red John. He wondered if he would be able to go on with his plan when he saw Lisbon…

If she was dead, he wouldn't mind it anymore if he died. He'd just try to make sure Red John didn't live a single minute beyond that.

But if he found Lisbon alive…

His phone rang and he jumped a little. His fingers trembled slightly as he fished inside his pocket to get the call, while keeping the gun in his jacket's pocket.

It was Van Pelt.

"Jane, I might have something interesting". Van Pelt's voice sounded excited.

"I'll be right there". His heart started beating a little bit faster. He closed the cellphone and was about to put it inside his vest pocket when he brushed the bottom of the pocket and felt something hard.

Lisbon's cross.

He took it out and let it glint in the moonlight. Her smiling face appeared before him, bright with joy. But it only lasted a second. All he saw again was the darkness and the skyline of Sacramento through the window.

He needed her to be alive. Alive and well.

He felt a tear running down his cheek, and he realised he had been holding up the tears. He let them fall freely as he thought of Angela, Charlotte and Teresa. He was guilty of letting his wife and child be a target for a serial killer. Being guilty of the same mistake with Teresa, and living with that guilt, was not an option.

He kissed the cross and kept it again in the vest, near his heart. He put the phone in one of his pants' pocket instead, and climbed down the stairs and back into the bullpen.

* * *

"What's up Grace?"

"I have tried to find any connection between Peter Miller and every company created in California for the last 5 years, but I have found nothing. I'm sure he's been using fake names to create them. However, I've been running checks through the postal service, FedEx and there's something interesting. Miller has been constantly receiving parcels from a company which provides mainly technical supplies, many of them related to surveillance, private security, and so on".

"That's interesting. But then, he received them at home? There's no other address?"

"He received them at home, yeah, but… here's the interesting part. Those supplies were paid by bank transfers from two different companies. Der Nhoj Ltd. and Smile Inc. I've looked for them in the registry and… both companies share the same address".

"Where is it?"

"Near the docks, it's an abandoned area. Mainly industrial premises, let me see…", she searched over the papers on her desk and handed him a written note with the address and directions.

"That's it", he said. "That's his mistake. I'm going there". He rushed out of the bullpen and stormed down the stairs. Grace tried to follow but he was incredibly quicker.

"Jane! Jane! I'm calling Hightower! Wait!".

But he was already out in the parking lot and didn't listen.

* * *

Jane drove the streets of Sacramento in a frenzied pace, no longer caring about red lights or traffic signs, and the fifteen minutes that usually took a sensible driver to reach the docks from the HQ's turned only six. As the area was dark and slightly isolated, he was happy Van Pelt had indicated directions to reach the premises. He could barely read the street names.

He finally pulled out of a small and apparently ruinous warehouse. As he went out of the car, he took his jacket out (he wanted the best mobility) and drew the gun out of its pocket, before throwing the piece of clothing on the driver's seat of his Citroen. He closed its door, as quietly as possible, and advanced into the building.

He felt the telephone vibrating and took it out of his pocket to look to the id screen. It was Cho calling. Jane felt slightly tempted to answer and explain where he was. But after a few seconds, he turned the phone off instead and kept it again.

The door was slightly ajar. Probably nobody crossed the streets of this particular area (most of the buildings here looked like they had been neglected in favour of those in the newer area), so it was safe anyway.

It was small and dirty. And pitch black. He tried to adjust his sight to the darkness, as even the moonlight didn't filter through the thick dust covering the windows. Once he managed to make out the silhouettes of the objects, he started moving. He could see several working tables, chairs behind them. A wrecker in a corner...

A television set.

He got closer. The TV looked clean, compared to the rest of the building. Two cables came out from behind it. One went to a plug socket, the other to an aerial set. He placed one hand on the back of it and felt the slightlest hint of warmth. It had been recently used.

Then, he heard something.

He turned his head right. He could make out the shape of a dark door. He got closer, noting the way from the tv to that door was clear of objects. Just as he reached the door and looked inside, he saw it was not a room what he was looking at.

It was a long flight of stairs downwards. And at the end of those stairs, he could see the light of a lamp.

He inhaled deeply, tightened the grip around his gun, and started his way down.

* * *

**A/N: And so the past and the present finally meet. But what will the future bring? I hope I can update tomorrow but I'm having a barbecue this evening with my family and I really want to have the chapter well written and making sense, so please bear with me if it takes a bit longer. No worries, though. I PROMISE I'll finish the fic, there's nothing I hate more than reading one I like and never reading the end, I'd never do that to you.**

**Reviews please! I'm encouraged by them :D  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: Thanks again. Thanks thanks thanks and a million thanks ;) And sorry for not updating yesterday, as I said the barbecue didn't let me work on this as much as I would have wanted to.**

**This is definitely shorter. But it has an explanation and I'm going to give it to you because I know what I am doing. I wanted to cut it much further, but 1) the cliffhanger wouldn't be so, and 2) the chapter, and the one after this, would have looked like it was the end of the story, and they are not. So I'd rather have three shorter chapters with as many good cliffhangers than one or two chapters that are looking like there's nothing else left to tell. You'd miss the interest, and I would be the only one to blame.**

**Too much of my moaning. You can tell me to shut up now :)**

* * *

"Good evening, Patrick. I didn't expect you so soon".

Just as Jane was about to cross the threshold into the basement, he heard the soft voice and stopped in his tracks. It was not really necessary, however, as he had already made his presence known, and it didn't matter, all he really wanted was to go inside. But he was scared too. He gathered all the bravery he could and entered the room.

His first look was for Lisbon. She was hanging from the roof by her cuffed wrists. He could see the flesh in contact with the steel was reddened, about to bleed. She had probably been in that position for quite long. She was wearing an oversized football jersey and her feet were naked, barely touching the floor. She was completely slumped down out of tiredness.

But she had heard Red John pronounce the name she was most looking forward to hear and the one she also dreaded, for that meant he had come to her rescue, but also he was now in the same peril as she. Her face was rising slightly as she tried to look to the door and when her eyes connected to his, she felt the tears flooding her eyes.

"Jane…", she really couldn't believe he was standing there.

He looked at her face, feeling his heart break a little. She was alive, and as happy and relieved that could make him feel, he also knew that she, they actually, were in mortal danger, and he wanted nothing more than to kill the man that had put them in that situation. The man that had tortured him nonstop for years. The man who had killed the two people he loved the most…

He took his gun out of his pocket and raised it while turning his eyes from Lisbon to Red John. Or Peter Miller. But Jane didn't pull the trigger when he pointed at his enemy.

Red John was pointing a gun… at Lisbon. Jane was not very scared for himself, but he was terrified about her and Red John knew it. The sick bastard.

"Leave her out of this. This is about you and me, you don't need her", he spoke roughly, trying to disguise the increasing panic at the sight of a gun pointed at Teresa.

"But why, Patrick? She's my way of… balancing this situation. Nah… I like things the way they are. Surely I would have wanted you to come here a bit later, play a little longer with Teresa. But I guess I underestimated you".

"You didn't underestimate me. You underestimated the whole team. You committed a mistake. That's why I found you".

"Oh did I, really?".

"Yes, you did. You are not perfect, Peter".

Lisbon tried to stand again on her toes, but her legs didn't cooperate. So she let herself hang again by her wrists, even if the steel was slightly cutting the flesh and some blood was already sliding down her bare arms. But she didn't care anymore about the pain. She was more focused on looking at Jane.

She tried to look at him from under her locks. He looked tired, older. The stress he had been under for hours was clear on his face. His shoulders seemed to have surrendered to the weight of the responsibility. Or, as she was afraid to think, to the weight of guilt.

If she knew him any well, he was most likely feeling guilty for the whole scenario, and he would, for who knows how long.

And what was even worse, he was probably feeling… murderous. And that was a Jane she was not willing to see at all. She didn't fear him, she knew he would never hurt her. But she had been trying all those years to avoid an encounter of Jane and Red John, and now she was witnessing it. And Jane had a gun.

Red John spoke again.

"I might not be perfect… but neither are you, Patrick".

"I know that", Jane answered, looking away but keeping the weapon pointing at him.

"You… you have always been a failure of a man. A fake to so many people. A bad husband. You were always away from home, tricking all those marks, and Angela always asked you to stop it, didn't she? She wanted you to stop the whole TV gig thing. She wanted you to be home at night and wrap your little Charl-".

"Stop it".

"-Charlotte and tell her fairy tales-".

"Stop it!", Jane's face was contorted in rage. His eyes looked glassy and red, and Lisbon shuddered. She could see Red John was psychologically torturing Jane and it was scaring her so much.

"Stop it", Jane repeated, in an attempt to calm himself a little. "I know what I am. I live with that guilt every single day".

"But I thought you had learned your lesson, Patrick! I thought I had managed to set you on the right path, a life of penitence… but you actually went on with your life…", he moved closer to Lisbon, until he was right in front of her, and used his gun to raise her chin as he said those words. He could see the fear in her eyes, her lips trembling. He was satisfied with the way she was completely out of control of the situation. "You found... _other _reasons to live, didn't you?".

Jane moved further into the room until he was positioned on the other side of the room. He was now looking directly Red John's back. It was a good moment to shoot him. But he knew Peter Miller was now pointing at Lisbon's head and he wanted to avoid any kind of danger to her. So he started talking again.

"So that's what you're doing, isn't it? You're '_saving the world_' by punishing me".

Red John moved to Lisbon's left side, still pointing to her head.

"I am settling an example. You are the kind of person who makes this world a bad place to live. A man who leads a life of lies and trickery. A man who disappoints his own family. The story of your rise and fall will be a warning to the rest of the world".

"That's your mission, isn't it? You kill, to teach people not to lie. Well I don't really see the balance there, Peter".

"A few lives might spare the rest of humanity from the treachery of many others".

"A few lives? A few? You've killed almost twenty people!". Jane straightened his arm, unlocking the safety catch of the gun. The click made Lisbon raise her head even higher.

"Jane… Jane, please…".

He looked at her in desperation, and released just a bit the grip on his weapon

"Don't do this". She was trying to push her toes on the floor and turning slightly, so her raised arms didn't block the sight of Jane in front of her. She was crying, the pain, the fear and the worry for Jane's state of mind mixing together and unleashing her emotions.

"Oh, such a beautiful scene, really". Red John was chuckling. "Is that Patrick's determination crumbling, what I hear? I knew Teresa was your soft spot, Patrick, but wouldn't have said it was so much so! Years seeking revenge, and now that you have the chance, you doubt. _That's_ something else to add to the list of failures: _you are a coward_".

"Jane... Patrick, don't listen to him, please. Just listen to me. Look at me". He met her eyes again. "You are not a murderer, you are better than him-".

"Shut up, woman. This is not about you", Miller said, the barrel of his gun pushing her face until she gave in and looked down.

"Don't. Touch. Her". Jane sounded mad. The kind of mad Lisbon didn't want to ever hear him. She didn't even try again to raise her eyes and look at him. She knew she would not like the sight.

"Or else what? Eh? What will you do, Patrick". He never stopped pointing at Lisbon's face.

Jane's eyes were a murderous red. He focused on his target.

And a loud bang resonated in the basement.

**

* * *

A/N: so, good cliffhanger? you hate me now? You can tell me! Hit below ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist (obviously).**

**A/N: The reviews seem to agree on something, the cliffhanger was exactly on the right place :D But no worries, the chapter's up!**

* * *

For a second, everything was in silence.

Lisbon's breath hitched in her throat, she felt her heart skip a beat and, for a instant, she thought she was dead. But then, neither heaven nor hell's floor were supposed to look like that basement's. So she looked to her left, and saw Red John's body, contorted on the floor, the hint of a smile on his face, and his eyes open in shock, looking at the roof, but surely not seeing it.

She realised Red John was dead. He was really dead. He had a bullet hole on the left side of his torso, and the blood pool was steadily growing beneath him. However, that brought up her next question. So she raised her head.

Jane was still holding his gun and looked bewildered. For the fraction of a second, she believed he had been the shooter.

But with the corner of her eye, she saw someone else's body in semi-darkness, peering in from the stairs.

Rigsby.

And he was holding his gun with much more determination than Jane.

Then, after that observation, which had developed in slow motion but had probably lasted no more than a brief instant, everything happened so quickly.

Rigsby was coming down the stairs and shouting things she didn't really heard. He got closer to Red John's body and crouched to check his vitals, while turning his head and asking her something. Cho and Hightower, plus a lot of other agents appeared through the door, with their weapons raised. But she didn't hear them.

She didn't see Jane securing the weapon right before throwing it to one side. She didn't see him crossing the few steps that separated them both. All she felt was his arms, that wrapped around her, crushing her body to his. She whimpered in pain, the gash under her ribs too tender and fresh, and he relaxed his hold ever so slightly. She relaxed for a second trying to understand the situation. They both were alive and it was over.

And _everything _hurt.

"Jane", she said, "please get me down... it hurts... I can't-". She was trying to keep on her toes but it felt too good to finally be able to lean on something as comfortable as Jane's body and he was too willing to let her do it. She just needed to regain control of her arms.

"Uh... Yeah, down, sorry". He looked around and found Red John's knife, next to the chair he had used to hang Lisbon up. He took it, not caring for a moment about fingerprints or the fact that it was evidence, and holding her with one arm around her waist, he used the other to try to cut the rope that was holding Lisbon's cuffs to the joist. It wasn't a thick rope, and the knife was really sharp and it took just a few cuts to release it. Lisbon's cuffed arms fell immediately around Jane's shoulders.

It felt like forever since she had last felt completely safe. It was an overwhelming emotion. She didn't care now about the fact that she was badly injured, or the pain, or that she still had handcuffs around her wrists, or the whirlwind that seemed to be happening around them. She just wanted to hold and be held by Jane and feel his closeness. She cried out of relief pressing her face to the side of his neck, and pressed herself impossibly closer.

Meanwhile, Jane tied his arms around her, as if she was about to disappear if he let her free. She seemed to be fighting to stand still, and he held her so that she didn't need to make any effort. He could not believe how badly he had been needing the touch of her body against his until now. He stroke her hair softly, and whispered into her ear. "_You're safe... you're safe... you're safe..._". He could only reassure her, while the tears falling from his eyes mixed into her hair. He kissed her soft locks repeatedly while he caressed them. It felt surreal after so many hours to feel her body pressed into his, and he didn't want to let go.

They didn't really know if they stood like that for seconds or hours, for they had lost conscience of what was happening around them. However, they were brought back to reality by a several paramedics that started trying to separate them.

"Please sir, we need to check you both out", one of them told them while getting in between them.

"I... I am fine. But her- she's injured, she- her ribs, she- she- and someone... Cho! Cho, please take her cuffs off, she can't move her hands, the cuffs- someone take the cuffs off dammit!", he seemed to be stumbling over his words, he was deranged and the flood of tears only increased every minute that passed.

Lisbon was being laid down over a stretcher, but she still looked at him, her heart aching for his pain. "Jane, I'm fine, I'll be- _Uuuurrggghh_ that hurts!_ Ooooohh please!_". The paramedics were examining her wounds and giving her first aid without any painkiller. She tossed and turned in pain while they took the stretcher out of the basement.

Jane followed the stretcher with his eyes, but Hightower prevented him from going up the stairs and following her outside.

"_Why _on earth did you possibly think you could do this alone, Patrick?".

He looked into her eyes, but did not answer.

"You have placed Lisbon, and yourself, in terrible danger. _You _have brought an illegally acquired weapon, as I know you don't have a license, all by yourself, without any backup, and threatened a suspect. _You _have been absurdly reckless and could have had Lisbon killed. What the hell did you think you were doing!".

"He was mine. This was my call, not yours".

"Lisbon and you are my call, Patrick! You are my responsibility! If Van Pelt hadn't called me as soon as you left the HQ we might not have got here on time, and you two might be dead, or you could have committed a crime-".

"I don't care. I didn't care about that. I wanted to kill him".

"No, Jane. You didn't".

"Yes I did".

"NO. YOU. DIDN'T. PATRICK!", some of the agents working around the basement looked at her, so she lowered her voice down to barely a whisper and continued. "I don't want to hear you talking nonsense like that anymore. And don't you dare to say it aloud one more time or I will have to fire you and I don't really wanna do that".

"I don't care if you fire me. It's over. He's dead. I don't need the CBI anymore".

And with that he stormed outside. Hightower fumed and shook her head in defeat.

* * *

Jane sat down in a plastic chair next to Lisbon's hospital bed. The incesant beep of some machine beside it, and the tubes coming out of her nose and arms, gave the impression that she was in a coma, but fortunately she was just being monitored while the sedatives kept her calm and painless. She had given in to sleep after being administered the injections, and her face looked peaceful. She would have looked like nothing had happened, if it hadn't been for the bruise that purpled her cheek.

He had driven inside the ambulance to the hospital, his hand never leaving hers. He had only released when they took her into the emergency room and forbade him to go inside. He had waited for almost one hour that seemed to last forever. Van Pelt, and very shortly afterwards the rest of the team, had joined him meanwhile, until one doctor had finally expressed that Lisbon's wounds didn't hold real danger (although they were certainly painful for her). She had received stitches on her gash and given sedatives to help her avoid the pain and stress. They would let her sleep for around twenty four hours, until she was well rested.

Now, sitting beside her, his thumb caressing the back of her hand, and watching her sleep, he started to really appreciate the extent of his temerity and the strain she had been through. He looked at her face, illuminated by a dim lamp over the bed, and his heart broke a little looking at the bruise. She looked beautiful anyway, with her long dark hair feathered over the pillow, and he dreamed of another world, a world where he could look at her the same way, but where there was no bruise, where there were no hospital beds or beeps or tubes, a world where it was just them, together, with no worries or nightmares to haunt their nights.

But this was not that world.

"Jane...".

He turned as much as the chair let him, to see Van Pelt leaning on the door.

"Hey, Grace", he smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He looked back at Lisbon's face and resumed the hand caressing.

Van Pelt entered the room and crossed to situate herself at the other side of the bed, so that she was in front of Jane.

"Jane... you can't really feel guilty about this. You know she's alive because of you".

He should have known Van Pelt would see past his facade. She was good reading at people.

"No, Grace. She's alive_ despite of_ me. She wouldn't have been Red John's target if it weren't because of me. Hightower is right. I've placed her in a great deal of danger".

"You knew I would call her, Jane. If... if she has told you that, I'm sure she doesn't really mean it. She's just under a lot of stress. We all are. We just need to cool down and let it rest and then we can talk-".

"There's no need to talk, Grace. There's nothing left to say. I am a failure. Everything I touch, I curse it".

"Don't say that, please". Grace felt sad for her friend. She really wanted to make him feel better but she knew nothing she said could really help him right now. "Go home, take a shower, sleep a bit... Boss is not waking up for a while anyway and I will stay with her. And Cho promised to come in the morning and take over so she won't be alone", a rest would be beneficial for him, she thought.

Jane looked silently into Lisbon's face. He was scanning it and for a second, a thought crossed Grace's mind. _He looks at her as if he were saying goodbye_. She widened her eyes understanding that it was exactly what he was doing.

He was looking at her for a last time.

"Jane!", she called, just as he stood up. He didn't look or answered to Grace. He used his free hand to remove Lisbon's bangs from her forehead before placing a kiss there. He left his lips over her skin a little longer than necessary, revelling on the warmth and the softness.

"Jane... you'll... you'll come back tomorrow, won't you?", Grace didn't really want to hear the answer because she already knew it.

"Goodbye, Grace", he said, looking into her eyes. He looked one last time to Lisbon's face and his voice faltered a bit. "Goodbye, Teresa".

And with that, he left the room.

Grace ran to the door and called down to the corridor as she saw him go away.

"Jane! Jane please!".

But he turned the corner without looking back.

* * *

**A/N: I'll just say I really like the next chapter. I don't know why, I just do :) There are two left.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: I'm so so so happy that I am getting so many reviews on my first story :) You are all the best.**

**Well, I am quite proud of this chapter. It's longer and I've tried to be descriptive on the situations, especially on Lisbon's POV. Well, let's say I've re-read it a couple of times checking for mistakes and I thought: This is something I would like to read. I just hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.**

* * *

Lisbon felt like she had just woken from a nightmare and fallen into another.

"Like that? He's gone _like that_?", she did not really want to believe it. Grace hid her eyes by lowering her face in shame. She felt it was her fault that Jane had left, she should have stopped him, she should have said something to make him change his mind.

Teresa could not really believe he had left. She had woken from the sedatives almost at dawn the second day, over twenty four hours after coming out of that basement, surrounded by Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt, but they didn't tell her anything until she was conscious enough to actually ask for Jane herself. And they had looked at each other trying to find the way to tell her. It had been finally Cho the one who explained what Van Pelt had previously told both him and Wayne.

Lisbon was still registering Cho's words. She recalled how Jane had held her after Red John fell dead. She remembered his comforting words. She remembered his hand never leaving hers when the ambulance drove them to hospital. During those moments, through the noise, the pain... she had felt that, somehow, an invisible wall that was separating them had started to crumble. She had felt that after the experience they had lived through, they could be honest with each other.

She really wanted to be honest with him. She didn't care if he told her he could not love her as she loved him. She just felt that Red John was the one thing keeping her from being completely sincere with him. That somehow, he would be finally _just _Jane. A man without a burden, without a mission. She had thought she would change him, and she had thought she could tell her truth to a Jane who didn't think of his life as a countdown to his personal revenge.

_I have been so wrong_, she thought.

"I... I'm feeling a bit tired guys, can you please leave for a bit?", she wasn't tired. She just wanted to lie down and close her eyes and she wanted to avoid them seeing her cry, because she really was just about to break down.

"Sure, let's go". Cho turned around and opened the door, leaving for the corridor, closely followed by Rigsby. Van Pelt, who was just behind him, whispered "I'll be right there" to him, and he looked at her understanding before leaving the room too. She turned to look at Lisbon, who was looking the other way, apparently interested in the view of her window (even though from her bed all she could see was the cloudless sky), but actually hiding the tears that were already falling down her cheeks.

"Boss...", Grace said slowly. "He cares for you a lot, you know".

"Yeah...", Teresa wiped away the tears, whimpering a bit when she brushed the bruise on her cheek. But the tears didn't stop flooding her eyes. "That's why he leaves Sacramento and hasn't answered your calls. Because he cares". She was trying to sound nonchalant, but she was failing miserably.

"He does! I was here the night before last, with him, right before he left...", she dropped down her voice and leaned over the bed. "I think he left because he thinks he causes you too much pain. That he's dangerous for you. And now that Red John is dead... well he might think now that it's for the best that he leaves the CBI now".

Teresa looked at Grace in shock. _He causes you too much pain_...

"But the way he was looking at you... he... he cares, he really does. And if he ever comes back, it will probably be because of you. Don't give up on him b- _Teresa_". Van Pelt had been just about to call her _boss_, but now she was not talking to Lisbon as a subordinate. She was talking as a friend. So for once, she'd use Lisbon's first name. And she waited for a reaction.

Lisbon looked at her for a second through her tears. She wiped them out again with the back of her hand, and smiled. It was a sad smile, but it was a change.

"Thank you, Grace". Van Pelt smiled too, and left closing the door behind her.

Lisbon breathed deeply and looked around. Her bedside table was full of bouquets and _get-well-soon_ cards from the CBI staff. She smiled recognizing some of the names. Even Minelli had left one there, her dear old boss. But she knew there was nothing from the man she truly ached for.

She noted her BlackBerry was sitting closely beside the cards and, with some effort (it was still hard to move) she took it. She supposed one of her team members had left it there. She checked the call register.

Nothing. No missed calls. No messages. She typed the shortcut number she used for Jane and dialled, shaking at the possibility of him answering. But it went directly to voicemail. She didn't want to talk to a machine so she pressed the red button and left the phone over her lap.

She had never considered a life in which Jane didn't represent a role. She was lonely and had never believed to be clingy, but sometimes, when she called for takeaway, she dreamed of them both on her couch, sharing the food directly from the package. When the nights got chilly, she had dreamed of him spooning her body and wrapping his arms around her. And the rest of the time... well, she dreamed of him anyway. She knew he was emotionally unavailable. But she dreamed and that was enough, because at least he was there everyday at work.

And during the latest months they had been even closer. Lisbon had invited him over for Christmas Eve and, even though she wasn't a good cook, they had improvised a meal together and it had felt, for the first time in ages, like she was part of a real family. And she had dreamed again.

No. she hadn't dreamed. She had actually started _hoping_.

She had always thought she would talk with him openly about her feelings once Red John was out of the picture. The faint hope of the last months was not enough anyway: she did not believe he had anything but friendly feelings for her. Close, surely, but not romantic. And she did not really need them. She would be glad to have him around. She'd grow old and lonely. Or maybe she would find another someone. A special one. Either way she would be happy as long as he was around. He made her days a little brighter.

But this, she had not expected. It was the moment she had been praying for: Red John was finally dead, and Jane had not killed him. But he had left and her dreams and her hopes were becoming a nightmare.

He had always said he was using the CBI for his personal interest, for his revenge. But she had expected him to drop the act and accept he was human and he needed friends, a family. She had been a fool.

She thought of Van Pelt's words... _ if he ever comes back, it will probably be because of you_. And took a decision.

She gathered the cell phone on her lap, dialled the shortcut again and waited. Voicemail. Red button and back to the start.

She wouldn't stop until she could talk with him.

* * *

Three days after waking up, Lisbon was still in the hospital bed, but she was feeling much better. The gash beneath her ribs was healing wonderfully and the bruise under her eye had almost disappeared. There were badly-looking scabs around her wrists but she was receiving daily treatment for them and the nurses had said with the right care they wouldn't leave very noticeable scars.

But she didn't care about her body. She just knew her cell phone had run out of battery several times over the last three days, trying to contact Jane. The only reply she got was the voice of an answering machine. She had learned the message by heart already. She had tried texting him, all the messages asking him to come back. But she never received back any text from him.

Hightower came into her hospital room while she was dialling his number for the umpteenth time. She raised her head to look at her boss and her eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time since she was awake that Hightower had come to visit her (Cho had told her their superior had been for over 10 hours while she was under the effects of the sedatives, but that had been over three days before). Lisbon clicked her phone off and left it on the bedside table.

"Ma'am", she said as a greeting.

"How are you feeling, Teresa?", Hightower was smiling, and looked genuinely happy to see Lisbon awake and well.

"I'm doing great. They should take the stitches off anytime in the next two days and then I'll be sent back home. I seem to be healing better than expected".

"I'm glad to hear. The team has been keeping me updated and I have intended to come sooner but, as you can imagine, I've been quite literally buried by the paperwork".

Lisbon looked down to her fidgeting hands. Yeah, she could only imagine the amount of paperwork that Hightower had been dealing with. She had to fill at least ten forms every time Jane got into trouble. This had been infinitely worse than that, so...

"Yeah, yeah I can imagine. It's OK, I've... I've had company and well..." she looked to the phone sitting on the table and Hightower leaned towards Lisbon, understanding what she was thinking.

"Teresa. He has not contacted anyone in four days. The last time anyone talked to him was the night he was here".

"I know that. But he'll reply. Eventually he'll reply".

"I wish he does. But meanwhile, you have to go on with your life".

"No, no he's... he's going to come back. I know he will".

"Teresa-".

"No. No. Don't say it". Lisbon felt her eyes were itching and growing wet. She inhaled deeply, pressing her hands to her nose to avoid the tears. He was coming back. "Look for him. Get Missing Persons to look for him, place a reward on his head, anything!".

"Teresa, I can't do that".

"Yes, you can". She was looking directly at her boss and angry. Oh so angry. Didn't she see they could find him?

"Teresa... he's left willingly. He's not been abducted or threatened. Missing persons can't look for him. And he's not committed any crime. Yes- yes, I know", Lisbon was about to interrupt her but Hightower knew what she wanted to say. "Yes, he had a gun bought or acquired illegally and he doesn't have a license but I'm not going to press charges against him just so that we can find him. He's smart, and he would avoid the police (_ha!_, Lisbon thought, _so she has also thought of doing that!_) and I am not going to put him through a trial just because of that. He's been into enough trouble already. There is not one judge in this city who wouldn't like to give him a prison sentence just for sneezing if they could. So no. Forget it".

Lisbon focused down on her hands again. At least she had tried.

Hightower was looking at her. She was reading her. It was one of the qualities that made her a good boss, the ability to read what others were thinking. She might not be as good as Jane but it made the trick.

"I know you want him to come back".

Lisbon's frustration turned into plain sadness. "I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to him".

"You wouldn't have said goodbye to him, Teresa. You would have convinced him to stay".

"How would I do that?", she snorted, but Hightower took her hands, and Teresa forced herself to look at her boss' face.

"You would know how".

The two women looked at each other for a second, before Hightower got up from her seat and turned to the door.

"If he ever comes back... will you still let him stay at the CBI?". Teresa didn't look at her boss. She just stared blankly thinking of Jane.

"If he still wants the job, I'll consider it. For now, I'm taking his absence as vacation time. It's what the best I can offer".

"Thanks". Lisbon didn't hear an answer. She just heard the door click shut. She turned to the bedside table to retrieve her electronic companion.

_Oh no, not again,_ she thought, picking her BlackBerry from the table_. Where is the damn battery charger?_

* * *

The night had just started to grow lighter as Patrick Jane left the car hire office where he had just rented the grey SUV he was driving. His Citroen was who knows where: maybe still at the docks, maybe back at the CBI... he didn't care. He just needed to drive away from Sacramento, he needed to escape the shadows of the latest events that were haunting him.

The first day, all he did was drive down to Malibu. He drove along the coast, the sea to the right side of the car, green valleys and mountains to the left. The seven-hour drive from San Francisco to his former home, combined with his over thirty-hour sleep deprivation left him exhausted and he just crushed down on the mattress below the red smiley on the wall. He slept well into the next morning.

The second day, he spent the day walking around the house. He only left to get some food. The floors were covered in dust, some spiderwebs hanging from the top corners of the walls. The garden had grown wild: the grass was sunburned, the bushes had lost their shape and the flowers were withered. The green seemed to have invaded everything. In his imagination, he could see what it all had been once. He could hear his daughter's laughter and his wife's piano playing while he took care of that garden. But the sounds, their voices, seemed fainter now. More distant.

The third day, he went to the beach. He took a couple of sandwiches and a flask with tea and sat down, looking at the raging waves. The sky was covered in clouds that day and a storm was approaching. The sea did not look blue. It was greener, a rare shade of green. He stayed there until the rainstorm reached the beach late in the afternoon, and he went to his empty bedroom.

And the fourth, the fifth, the sixth day... everything he did, he did not see any red anymore.

He saw green. And he thought of Teresa's eyes.

Sometime in the week, he remembered Lisbon's cross. The vest had been thrown over a chair and forgotten since he had first crossed the threshold of the mansion. He picked it up and let it glint under the sun light. He saw Lisbon's face in front of him again. He could only imagine that cross under her face. That was where it belonged. But he was selfish, and the pendant reminded him of her. So he did not think of sending it back to Sacramento. Instead, he locked the chain around his own neck and let it rest against his skin.

Teresa was always on his mind. He worried about her. He couldn't help but think the last time he had seen her, her eyes were closed. He had said goodbye but he didn't give her the chance to do so. And he hadn't even called to ask about her. Would she be awake now? Would she be in pain? Would she suffer long-term effects?

Would she miss him?

He had shut his phone off when leaving Sacramento. He knew the team would try to contact him but he needed to get away. He needed time to think and they wouldn't leave him in peace.

However, as the week progressed, he started looking at the phone with increasing need. He wanted, _needed_, to make sure she was fine. His heart seemed to have lost a big chunk the moment he had ripped himself from her side.

The seventh morning, he took one last look at the red smiley in the bedroom. He went downstairs and took his phone and the home keys. He checked the cross was safely resting right below his neck and he came out of the house. It was a bright sunny day and the light breeze avoided it from being too hot. He settled on the driver's seat of the SUV and drove off.

The cemetery was almost empty. Most people were working today, it was Thursday. Only a few people were to be seen, cleaning the tombstones or simply standing in front of them, probably praying or talking to their lost ones.

It was Jane's second time there after the funeral. Only Danny, his brother-in-law, had convinced him to visit their family's graves. He thought it was a bit of a waste of time. They were not there. Only their bodies were there, not their souls. It was useless. But somehow, he knew he couldn't move one before paying them one visit.

He stood there for a few minutes in silence. He found his breath was starting to falter and he sat down on the stone in front of them. He needed to do this.

So he gave one look around, to see that nobody could hear him, and he spoke.

"Hey girls... I'm here. Sorry it took so long but, well, you know me. I'd rather brood on a couch than here". He snorted lightly, but his face turned sadder when he spoke again. "I... I did not do it. The man that did... this, to you. He took my friend and I couldn't _do_ it. Sometimes I wish I had, but my friend... Teresa, she always said I wouldn't. She said she would be there to tell me not to. I don't think she imagined quite that situation, but she was right".

He took a deep breath to placate his own sobs, and continued.

"You would like her. She's feisty, but sweet. Tough but caring. She never admits she needs help but she sometimes, she does. Charlotte, sweetie, you would have fun messing with her", he smiled, and took a second before continuing. "And... Angela... Angela, I think you would be good friends with her. I know you did not really like cops but she's a good one. She's honest. She has a heart of gold. She's...", a tear slid down his cheek and fell on the ground. "She's one of the most wonderful people I have ever met... and now I have let her down".

He stood in silence again. It was time to say goodbye.

"I hope you can forgive me. I will always love you. But I am still here and I can't do this anymore".

He looked for a long moment to both graves and whispered a goodbye. And he turned to his car.

As he sat down, clutching the steering wheel (even though the car was not moving) he felt lost. Like he had nothing left. He didn't even know what to do next. Then an idea crossed his mind and he reached for his phone. Turning in on, he waited until the messages started coming. There was a flood of them and he looked down the list.

Most of the texts were labeled as "Teresa Lisbon". He randomly chose one and read it.

"_Jane. I've been trying 2 reach U. Pls, we need 2 talk. Come back_".

He threw the phone aside on the passenger's seat, started the engine and drove off.

**

* * *

A/N: One chapter left. Can you guess where Jane is going? ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything.**

**A/N: Sooooo, this is it, folks, final chapter here! I feel sad, you know, to let it go but well it is time. I've truly enjoyed writing this chapter because the first thing I imagined about this story was actually the last scene. I don't know if I had made it justice but I am quite happy with the result.**

**Thank you very much for your support since the beginning, to those reviewers I could reply and those I could not, too. It's been a huge encouragement for me and it kept me publishing. A big Bravo to everyone!  
**

**I hope you all like this last installment, please tell me what you think.**

* * *

The first thing Jane did upon arriving to Sacramento, was to go to his apartment and take a long, warm shower. He had not realised he was actually afraid of finding out about Lisbon until he reached the city, and he found himself postponing the meeting. Anyway, after a such long drive, he decided it was best if he looked presentable to her.

He was buttoning his shirt on, in front of the mirror in his bedroom, when the ring caught his eye. He had been feeling the weight on his finger ever since leaving the cemetery that morning. The talk to his wife and daughter had liberated him somehow. He knew nothing on the outside had changed. It was just his soul that was finally free. Free to be human, to let himself _feel _again.

Jane slowly slipped the ring off his finger and let it rest on the dresser. He spent a few seconds looking at the piece of jewellery. He had worn it for years as a symbol of love and respect, and now it was on the same terms that he took it off.

He wondered if Lisbon was still in hospital. He considered calling someone from his team but he did not want to alert them yet that he was back in Sacramento. He knew he owed Lisbon a visit before anyone else.

He decided to try there first, but when he asked for Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, he was told the hospital staff were not allowed to disclose information on their patients. Of course, it took only minutes to use his charm on a chatty receptionist and learn that Teresa had been sent home the day before, as she had had an excellent recovery.

Just a few minutes later, he found himself walking up the steps to Lisbon's front door. He ran his hand through his curls, anxiousness overwhelming him, and finally gathered all the bravery he could to press the bell button.

* * *

Lisbon was clicking on the remote control, flicking through the mute TV channels, but not paying a real attention to the screen.

She had not been given the all clear to start working yet, forcing her to stay at home for several days, but she was thinking about asking Hightower to let her get back against her doctor's orders, even if it was only for office duty. After just two days, she was terribly bored and felt like being home would drive her crazy. But a part of her was also terrified of going back to work and seeing the empty leather couch in the bullpen. It would be the first time in years that he did not bother her and _that _was really what bothered her. She knew the work would be smoother, but she didn't like smooth. She liked exciting, she liked it challenging. She liked it complicated.

She liked it if Jane was in it.

The living room was in semi-darkness and she felt herself drifting to sleep. She thought of calling it a night and going to bed, but she knew that once in it, sleep wouldn't come quickly. The night before had been full of tossing and turning. She would blame it on the pain on her ribcage, but it didn't really hurt anymore. Her real pain was deeper than that.

The bell door rang, and Lisbon wondered who could be at that time of the evening. She switched the TV off. She got up and went to the door, looking at the clock in her open plan kitchen. Ten past eleven. She slowly opened the door softly up to where the safety chain let her. Her knees almost gave way when she saw the face at the other side.

Patrick was looking at her with sad eyes, and his heavy breathing showed his anxiousness. He did not say anything. He did not really know what to say.

She was shocked, and relieved at the same time, to see him well and there, but there was also anger somewhere in her feelings and she couldn't bring herself to just say a _hello _or just a _hey_.

It seemed like minutes before Jane managed to open his mouth and ask. "May I... may I come in?".

She seemed to consider it for a few seconds, before she closed the door and unlocked the chain. The door opened fully this time, and Jane spent a second taking on her figure. Her face was almost back to normal; just a tiny scar under the eye reminded him of the angry bruise that had been there one week before. Her wrists, showing from under the sleeves of yet another large jersey, were still marred with scars and some rests of scabs. And he couldn't see her ribs but she seemed to stand steadily on her feet and was apparently moving without any difficulties, so he thought she might be all right. In spite of the tense atmosphere that had settled around them, he was relieved to see there didn't seem to be any lasting effects of her ordeal.

She let the door open and went inside to her living room. He understood it was her silent and probably irated way of saying he could come in, so he entered and closed the door behind him.

When he reached the living room, she had taken position standing in the middle of the room and she was crossing her arms awkwardly, like defending herself from the harm he caused her. He stopped at a safe distance and pondered his words before he spoke. He couldn't quite make out her face from that distance, as the room was only lit by a faint light of a small floor lamp, but it was safer to there for now. He tried to find of something casual to start the conversation.

"I've been to the hospital before but they tell me you were released yesterday".

"Yes. You would have known that, if you had called before coming".

_Ok, so it's not going to be an easy conversation, whatever I say_, Jane thought. So he decided to start the serious talking instead of just stalling. They were not going anywhere with small talk.

"Sometimes the phone is not the best means of communication", he defended himself. "There are some things that had to be said in front of each other".

"That's true. But it would have been nice to know at least that you were alright, Jane".

"That I won't deny. By the way, how... how are you?".

She thought of giving him another sarcastic answer, but a part of her was frightened of him tiring too soon of the conversation, and she did not want him to leave, so she bit her tongue and replied.

"I'm OK. The wounds were less serious than they looked".

"I'm glad to hear... they looked painful".

"Yeah... hell that was a lot of pain... but the doctors made me sleep and it was better... until I woke up".

He knew what she meant. She didn't want to talk about her physical wounds, but about the ones they didn't see.

"Lisbon... Teresa, I am sorry. I truly am".

"Where the hell did you go, Jane?", she raised her voice. "A WEEK! Do you know how many thoughts have crossed my mind during this week? All I knew was that you had left without even saying goodbye, that you had told Van Pelt you were a failure and that you had your phone off! Can you imagine how many times I have tried to convince myself this week that you hadn't thrown yourself down a bridge or something like that?".

He should have known. He should have known that he would cause her pain even when he was away.

"And then," she continued, "Hightower said you had left willingly and that we couldn't search for you. Maybe she knew you were probably just taking a nice 'Red-John-Is-Dead' kind of holiday", she pronounced the last sentence with clear disgust on her face. "I guess the boss knows you better than I do".

"No, you're wrong. She doesn't know me better than you, no one does". He said. Lisbon snorted, but she saw honesty in his eyes, and she said nothing. He went on. "You were the one who knew positively I would come back. You have been the only one that has really tried to contact me during the week. And believe me, I've spent a full hour at my apartment reading your texts and didn't even read half of them. You did not get tired. You didn't give up on me".

"I did", she looked down to the floor and shifted her feet uncomfortably. "When I left the hospital yesterday, I stopped calling".

"You had to stop sometime. But it took you six days to do it. That's a record". He smiled timidly and Lisbon raised her face to look at him. His smile was real, not a fake big grin; something softer and truer. She could not help curling her lip upwards just the tiniest bit, but it was enough for him. For the first time since he had been back into her home, he felt like they were doing some progress. So he took just a couple of steps closer. He was still far enough to reach and touch her, but at least he could really see her face now in the dimly lit room. She looked really tired. _I've done this to her_, he thought.

Jane felt like it was time to be even more sincere to her now, and he felt the blood starting to rush at a quicker pace, and his heart rate raising slightly.

"Teresa, I... I know I have been foolish. I know I am probably the most stubborn man in the universe and I always commit the same mistakes, but during the past week I have done a lot of thinking. I needed time to be alone and consider the past... and the future".

Lisbon didn't understand where he was going and didn't interrupt him, but looked at him questioningly. What was he trying to tell her?

Then her eyes caught on his left hand. She was so used to see the golden ring on his finger that it was the lack of it that captured her attention. She suddenly understood... _the past and the future..._ she knew what he wanted to express and her breath hitched on her throat. She feared she might be wrong but she hoped... _he feels the same_. She just hoped she was right.

Jane took a few steps forward again, until he was right in front of Lisbon. He was actually invading her personal space now, she thought, but she felt surprisingly calm now, maybe because _that's_ where she wanted him to be.

"By the way, this is yours", he said and raised his hands behind his head to unclutch the chain around his neck. The collar of his shirt had prevented her from seeing her golden pendant hanging on his chest, and the emotion at recovering it left her on the verge of tears.

"Jane it's... it's my mom's cross", the smile reaching her eyes despite her tears. She offered the palm of her hand to receive her dear pendant. Teresa looked at him emotionally and whispered a _thank you_, while she tried to secure the clutch around her neck. Jane signalled her to turn around so he could help her and she complied, using both hands to raise her raven locks to allow him a better access. His fingers caressed the skin below the back of her neck a little longer than necessary, gaining him a sigh from her lips, before she turned back to look at him and let her hair down.

He looked into her eyes, and she was surprised to see them turning darker, filled with something she could only describe as longing.

Then he could not hold himself back any longer and whispered. "I can't bear to be far from you, Teresa".

She released a breath she did not know she was holding.

They held each other's stares until Lisbon felt her eyes were on the verge of tears. Jane leaned forward until his forehead touched hers, and raised his right hand to caress her cheek. Lisbon leaned immediately towards his touch and sighed. She had always believed she would talk to him about her feelings, but now, when the time had come, she realised she did not need to talk. They communicated silently, through touch, through looks.

Jane gently rubbed his nose against hers. Their breaths mingled and he teased the corner of her mouth with a feather-light kiss. Lisbon felt her knees slightly buckling beneath her and tied her arms around him to hold herself. He smiled softly while tying his right arm around her waist, still rubbing his thumb against her cheek.

They didn't know if they spent just seconds or full minutes like that, enjoying each other's warmth and silently telling how deep their feelings for each other ran beneath their skins; but then, Lisbon could not keep herself quiet any longer and spoke in a whisper.

"I missed you _so much_... but I knew you would come back to me".

"And I knew you would guide me home". And with that, he closed the tiny gap that still separated them and kissed her.

They kissed softly, but hungrily. It was passionate, but tender at the same time. They poured all the love, frustration and relief into the kiss. They kissed like two people who had been thirsty for a long time and had found an oasis. They kissed as if it were their last kiss, but they knew this was in fact a new beginning.

They did not spare much time until Lisbon took Jane's hand and led the way up the stairs to her bedroom. They both felt the kind of excitement people only feel on their first time, but it was combined with the confidence provided by the years, and by the certainty of sharing the experience with their loved one.

They undressed each other slowly, taking pleasure in each other's moans and sights, exploring through kisses and caresses the newly exposed skin, and whispering promises into each other's ears.

Somewhere far outside, the siren of a police car sounded. The voices of drunken youngsters raised above the traffic. But inside that room they heard nothing of that. They only heard how all the physical and emotional barriers were crushed down, as the two lovers surrendered to years of pent up passion and love.

When later they lay, tangled in each other's limbs, their bodies sated and naked, they felt like they had both, _finally_, found their home.

* * *

Patrick Jane woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. He raised to a sitting position and looked to the right to see his sleeping companion's bare back illuminated by the moonlight. She was lying on her stomach, her arms around the pillow and her face towards him, while her hair was spread over her left shoulder. She looked as peaceful as he had ever seen her and he felt a sudden surge of manly pride as he recalled the look of utter extasis on her face just a few hours before. He guessed not many of Teresa's scarce lovers had managed to made her reach that level of satisfaction before, and he could not help but smile at the thought. He gently caressed her spine, from her neck and all the way down to the small of her back, until his fingers reached the sheet that covered them both from the hip down.

Lisbon shivered under his touch and he felt a rush of desire, but he let her rest, and thought of the cause of him waking up at such early hour of the morning, when the night still blanketed Sacramento.

The nightmares had marred his nights during his stay at the Malibu estate, and tonight, though fainter, they had come back.

"Honey, what's up?", he heard Lisbon's sleepy voice as she stirred from her sleep. The endearment made Jane smile softly. He could get used to that.

"Nothing, everything's fine, go back to sleep". He said. He did not want to bother her. She needed the rest.

However his voice sounded clear and she supposed he had been awake for a while now. Lisbon rubbed her eyes to get used to the dim light that came from the window, and turned around, like him, to adopt a sitting position. She lay her chest on his naked back and circled her arms around to trace shapeless patterns over his stomach with the tips of her fingers. She kissed the back of his right shoulder before laying her cheek on it.

"I know something's bothering you... I won't be able to sleep until you tell me, Patrick".

He sighed. "I... I had a nightmare... about that night. I don't really want to talk about it".

Teresa did not need to know, actually. She had also suffered nightmares about it for a few nights now, but she knew him, and guessed the nature of his nightmares was probably torturing him even more than they did to her.

"Hey", she said, bringing her left hand to run through his curls, massaging his scalp to help him relax. Patrick turned his head slightly to look at her and she raised her face from his shoulder to return the look and smile. "It was just a nightmare... I am here, remember? _He _is not coming back and I'm not going anywhere". He looked intensely into her eyes and nodded slightly.

She offered him a bigger, but somehow shy smile, and brought her face closer to his, to kiss his lips softly. He returned the kiss with the same softness. It was not a moment of passion, but of intimacy.

"Now let's go back to sleep, alright?".

"OK", he said. Teresa let him lie down on his back before settling herself snuggled against him, her hand on his chest, while Patrick held her tightly, circling her with both arms.

He kissed her hair and breathed the sweet scent it exuded. It calmed him down.

She delighted in the warmth his body provided and snuggled further, pressing her face into his neck and kissing it.

"Good night, Patrick", she said, closing her eyes.

"Good night, my love", he said, doing likewise.

And no more nightmares haunted them.

_- THE END -_

**_

* * *

_A/N: *cries softly* I'm really going to miss writing this :) Was it too cheesy? Meh, I guess so but who cares :P  
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